The Commander

They pulled her through a narrow gate and into a yard of packed earth. Torches burned in iron bowls. Rain ticked from a wooden eave. Horses stamped in a long shadowed stall. The rope around Avery's wrists scraped her skin.

Men in armor ringed the yard. Some watched her. Others watched the tall man who had stopped the blades. He stripped off wet gloves and shook water from his hair. His eyes came back to her. They were cool and steady.

He spoke. His voice was low and sure. The men listened. A cloak was brought and set over her shoulders. Smoke and wool wrapped her. Warmth pricked her skin and brought tears she refused to let fall.

He touched two fingers to his chest. "Kael," he said. The name was simple in his mouth.

Avery touched her chest. "Avery." Her voice was thin and hoarse.

He repeated it. Careful. He nodded once as if setting a piece on a board.

A man hurried up with a chain. Kael's gaze cut to him. A small flick of his hand stopped the man where he stood. Words passed between them. The other man's jaw tightened. He backed away.

Kael spoke to the gate guards and then to her. He pointed to a door set in the long stone wall. He lifted his hand open at his heart. His eyes held a warning and a promise.

She did not know the words. She knew the intent. He would take her inside. She would not die in the mud tonight.

He led her into a hall washed with lamplight. The air smelled like wood smoke and damp stone. A banner hung with a wolf and a blade under a narrow crown. Soldiers stepped aside when Kael passed.

They entered a chamber with a hearth and a wide copper bath near the fire. Steam laced the air. Kael gave two short orders. Servants moved like quiet birds. One brought a towel. One set a kettle near the coals. Both left without a glance at Avery.

Kael unclasped his wet cloak. He laid it on a chair. He set his sword within reach on the table. He did not look away from her for long. He spoke a slow line. He touched his chest. He pointed to the floor near the hearth. He held his palm down. Stay.

She stood very still. She swallowed. She had never stood in a room with a man and a steaming bath and guards outside the door. Fear ran like a wire through her spine.

He unbuckled steel and leather with practiced hands. Layer by layer the armor came away. The man beneath it was built by work and battle. Scars crossed his skin like pale ink. None were vain. None were soft.

Broad shoulders carried the weight of command. His chest was hard with muscle earned through years of training and war. Dark hair fell damp against his neck. His jaw was strong and shadowed with stubble. The scars that marked him told stories of blades and battles. He moved with the grace of someone who had learned to fight before he learned to walk.

Avery's breath caught. If circumstances were different, if she wasn't terrified and lost in a world that wanted her dead, she'd be all over him. The thought made her face burn.

He stepped into the bath and sank with a quiet breath. The steam rose around his shoulders. He closed his eyes for one heartbeat and then opened them again. He did not forget she was there.

Avery kept her gaze on the fire. Heat touched her face. She listened to the small sounds. Water against copper. The soft scrape of cloth. The slow steady breath of a man who lived by control.

He spoke two words. His tone gentled. He said her name. "Avery." He lifted his hand and pointed to a folded towel on the table. He pointed to the hearth. He mimed drying chilled hands. Care. The language between them was hands and eyes.

She dried her fingers. The tremble would not stop. She was afraid of him and grateful to him at the same time. It bent her in two.

A knock came at the inner door. Kael answered with one word. An older woman entered with a wooden box and a guarded look. She wore dark cloth and a white linen cap. She did not meet Avery's eye. She kept her gaze on Kael and the floor between them.

Kael spoke to her. The woman's mouth pressed thin. She nodded. She set the box on the table and gestured to Avery. Her voice was quiet and careful.

"Come."

Avery followed her into a small adjoining room. A narrow bed. A basin. A stool. A shuttered window. The woman opened the box. A comb. Pins. A plain dress the color of rain. Soft shoes a little too big. She worked fast. She braided Avery's hair. She wrapped a simple scarf. She nodded to herself.

"You will be still," the woman said. The words were not English. The meaning was plain.

Avery whispered, "Thank you."

The woman guided her back to the main chamber. Kael had left the bath. He wore a simple dark shirt and trousers. His hair was damp. His sword lay on the table within reach. He looked like a man again and not a statue in steel.

He stepped close enough to study the scarf and the plain dress. He nodded once. Duty returned to his face like a mask.

He drew a short knife and moved to the rope at Avery's wrists. He paused and met her eyes. He waited for her nod. She gave it. The rope fell away. Blood rushed into her fingers with a painful sting.

She rubbed her wrists and tried to shape sense with her hands. She pointed to the hall. She made a small square as if the arch had edges she could hold. She shook her head. Not from here.

Kael watched. He understood shape and danger if not detail. He turned toward the door and called for two officers. He spoke with iron in his voice. When he finished he touched his chest and then pointed to her. His tone was protective. His word was a claim.

Ward.

He had placed his name and honor between her and the world.

Fear and relief struck at the same time. She did not know what it would cost him. She did not know what it would cost her.

He led her with the older woman to a small room of her own. Hearth. Narrow bed. Basin. Table. He showed her the boundaries with patient hands. Speak only when told. Keep your eyes down. Do not leave this door.

She nodded. She understood enough. He was keeping her alive.

His gaze lingered for a long breath. Then he stepped out and closed the door. The lock turned with a soft click.

The room felt too still. Her thoughts ran. The fire cracked and could not warm the fear.

She pressed her palms to her eyes. She spoke into the quiet. "I am not your ward. I do not belong to you."

Her words slid into the hall like a thrown stone.

Silence answered. Boots stopped outside. Metal kissed the keyhole.

The key rattled.